Interstate '76 - Bullseye
by Ywander
Summary: Hi there! This is an older story of mine, but I just recently thought of asking to put up the new title. The names of cars are according to the game, although they're based on real-life cars. But, since this is fanfic after all, I decided to keep it as original as possible. Hope you enjoy! Ywander


**_Bullseye_**

The roar of the engine, like an insane demon, was the only thing to be heard on the abandoned Interstate. A candyapple red '71 Potomac Pan Am sped across the tarmac with the pedal to the metal. The needle trembled just over 140 miles per hour. The sandy roadside flashed past, a lonely cactus went by in a blur. Slowly, but steadily, it gained on the creepers. It was a medium squad, two Courcheval Cavera's, a Findley Rattler and a Phaedra Clydesdale, ranking four cars in total. They'd been at it at Seminole, a small village about half an hour south of Lubbock. They robbed the local bank, grabbing wages of the local miners. But that hadn't been enough. They had to throw a Creeper Party, driving around town, shooting up everything in sight. The driver of the Pan Am grimaced at the thought of the smoking ruins, the burning cars, the ambulance. It had lain on it's side, the medics sprawled nearby, riddled with bullets. There must have been ten to twenty dead at least. It was time they paid the price.

A light green dot flashed on a dark green radarscope. It became two dots, then four. The radar recognized them by their own signal, because normals don't carry aircraft radar equipment around in their cars. They didn't have a friendly IFF signature, so it had to be cops, or creepers. And they sure as hell weren't the boys in blue.

It also meant they noticed the approaching musclecar as well.

'Breaker, breaker, this is Hellcrank. Bullseye, I got a contact on my scope coming up fast on our six.'

'Gotcha Hellcrank. Gotta be a vigilante. I heard there was a new guy in these parts, s'posed to be driving a red-hot Pan Am. Blowtop, Kickdown, go see who it is and get rid of him! Bullseye out.'

Two creepers driving rear position acknowledged the order and slammed on the brakes. The Clydesdale and one of the Cavera's turned around in a squealing one-eighty, coming around at their pursuer. He was still some distance away, so the Cavera launched a Dr Radar. White smoke trailed the anti-car missile as it shot across the plains. Inside the Pan Am a warning bell rang. The driver instanteniously shifted into neutral and killed the engine. Without the engine running all radar lost contact. The car swayed to the left and the missile zoomed past, detonating in the far desert. Immediately the eight cilinder engine came to life again, growling to make up for lost speed. Then the drivers voice crackled over the CB.

'Attention creepers, this is Ripper. You got one chance. Give yourselves up and no harm will come to you. Don't, and it'll be my pleasure.'

'What? Are you serious? You have any idea who you're talking to, jackass? We are Bullseye's Bandits and we're gonna wipe you off the road!' replied the creeper in the Cavera. And to stress his point he let loose a volley of HE mortars. But they were too close now for the mortars to be accurate The driver who called himself Ripper jinked his car from side to side, dodging the exploding mortars left and right with ease. In reply, the minigun on the Pan Am activated. Although only a small caliber of 7.62 mm, the Gatling type weapon fired at tremendous rate. A continuous stream of bullets slammed into the front of the Cavera. Sparks flew of the smaller car where the bullets ricocheted off the reinforced armour and bulletproof glass. In a panic reflex, the driver steered the car off the road, sending it flying through the air before landing in the desert. The Clydesdale however, kept a straight run at the Pan Am. Ripper recognized the deadly game of Chicken Challenge. Driving right at the other, he dropped a few mines, knowing that the speed would slide them along for a while. At the last possible moment he gave the steering wheel a jerk. The Pan Am and the Clydesdale screeched past each other, mere inches apart. The Clydesdale started another hundred and eighty degree turn to pursue, but the landmines had another set of degrees in mind. The terrain vehicle struck two landmines in midturn and the sheer force of the explosions sent it spinning throught the air. It smashed down on it's side, scraping along the asphalt untill it hit a roadside rock. Miraculously, the impact turned it upright again.

In the mean time, Ripper went off road in a tight curve, firing a salvo of FireRites at the Cavera. It managed to dodge the first unguided missile, but the other two blew holes in it's side, the size of pizza's. Extra large. The creeper fired mortars and missiles desperately, but to no use. The two vehicles danced around the sand, amidst the thundering explosions. The minigun sprayed the Cavera with hot lead untill it ripped through armour, hitting vulnerable internal components. Suddenly, the fuel line ruptured and the car vanished in a blaze of fire. When the ammunition detonated, it tore the car to shreds.

'Eat that, creeper!' shouted Ripper victoriously.

Right after the first was dealt with, the other one came around. The battered Clydesdale charged the Pan Am, though the sound from it's engine suggested some serious internal damage. It tried to aim it's fixed 20 millimeters at Ripper, but wasn't nearly as agile enough. The Pan Am swung around and before the creeper ever fired a shot, two full salvo's of FireRite struck home, annihilating the Clydesdale.

Now that the first two were down, Ripper hit the road again en gunned the powerful 450 cui V8 to the max. The car shot forward like a coiled snake and raced across the Great Plains. A few minutes later, a sultry voice with an English accent came through the CB.

'Ripper, this is Wildbird. Got your ears on, luv? Come back.'

'Ripper here, what's up?'

'What's your status on the Seminole raid?'

'It was Bullseye and his gang allright. I got two of 'm and I'm after the others. They've got a pretty big headstart on me though, heading west on I442. Got any suggestions?'

'West? That means they're trying to reach the county line at Hobbs. But the I442 has a long wide curve and it passes Checkered Hills on the south side. Take the dirt road on the right, one mile past the crossing with Gaineson road. It's a rough ride, but you'll end up right in front of them.'

'I ain't scared of a few bumps. Ripper out.'

The dirt road was right where Wildbird said it would be. But 'dirt' was a lot more accurate then 'road'. Probably a few farmers had used in the past with their tractors, but the only thing distinguishing it as a road now was a muddy trail. Rippers Pan Am ploughed through the rugged terrain, slipping and sliding. He was making some good time, when he a cornered a steep hill, coming to a dead end. A massive wall of rock rose up, fifty feet high at least. Ripper stopped and cursed aloud. He feared that he would have to backtrack along the dirt road, which probably gave the creepers enough time to get away. Then he spotted the abandoned farmhouse. The watertower next to it had toppled over, it's beams forming a crude ramp.

'Oh, I gotta be shitting me…' he mumbled to himself.

He backed the Pan Am up as much as possible, trying to get the maximum run up. Taking one last look at the watertower and the rock wall, he started to grin. Then he floored the accelarator. The engine roared, the wheels spun, the car lunged. He hit the makeshift ramp going 75 and heard the sickening crunch of dry wood. The last remains of the watertower flew apart, but the Pan Am just flew. Judging by the edge of the rocks, Ripper saw him going up for twenty, thirty, forty feet. One split second, he was afraid he'd hit the rocks and crash down again. Then his wheels slammed onto solid ground on top of the stony cliff. He had to countersteer furiously before the Pan Am finally regained it's grip. _Just one more hill and a steep slope down, then I'm on the I442 again...and within radar range. _Grinning again, Ripper killed the engine just before he reached the top, letting the car roll up, over and down again. Below him, the two remaining creepers came around the bend.

'Hellcrank, you got anything on the scope? Come back.'

'No boss, I'm clean. Just that big rig coming up ahead.'

A huge Moth truck hauling logs was heading towards them. It wouldn't pose a threat. Truckers usually kept to themselves, unless you really pissed them off.

'Say boss, shouldn't Blowtop and Kickdown be back by now? Over.'

'Yeah, they should and I don't like it. Keep your eyes open. That new vig is s'posed be good.'

'Ha, I'll whack any viggy stupid enough to take on Bullseye's Bandits. He'll never see me coming!'

Suddenly, somebody rammed him. His Cavera skidded onto the left side of the road, right in front of the Moth. Sadly, it was Hellcrank who never saw the Pan Am coming. The eightteen wheeler went clean through the Cavera, smashing it into two halves of burning wreckage. The trucker would probably be very pissed off indeed.

'Surprise!' shouted Ripper through the CB, starting his engine again and coming up behind the last creeper.

'Damnit! Where the hell did you come from? What have you done to the boys?'

'I gave 'm the same warning I'm about to give you. Stop the car or stop breathing. It's up to you.'

'Oh yeah, though guy? Stop _this_!'

Too late did Ripper notice that FireRite pod on top of the Findley Rattler was mounted on a turret. It turned with lightning speed and fired. He steered to the right, but one of the rockets hit the rear of the Pan Am. The blast shook the car violently and Ripper had to fight to keep control of the wheel. It made him very uneasy. _Not good, not good. He can launch about sixty rockets right at me, without even turning his car. This guy's a pro._

Swinging from left to right, trying to avoid one salvo after another, he fired his own FireRites at the creeper. But the Rattler was as agile, as it was fast. It dodged every rocket with ease. Ripper used the minigun, but again the Rattler was faster. It went off road and drove into the hills. Bullets whipped up sand just beneath the sleek sportscar, none of them reaching high enough. Another volley of unguided rockets shot towards the Pan Am and Ripper took direct hits on the hood and the roof. The explosions left his ears ringing and it was times like these, that he was glad he'd sacrificed some speed for extra armour. Still, the minigun was dead and the FireRite pod was heavily damaged. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. The Pan Am could only take so much. Luckily the Rattler didn't have any dropper hardpoints, but he wasn't doing much in return either. The hilly terrain made it difficult to hit any moving target. Just as another series of explosions went off next to him, much too close for comfort, he thought of something. Fast as the Rattler was, the Pan Am could still overtake it. Ripper drove right up to Bullseye's butt and then to the left side to him. If he fired now, the blast would kill him as well.

'What the hell are you doing, you idiot? You'll get us both killed!' he screamed over the radio. Ripper could hear him just as well without the CB.

'Time's up, asshole.' he replied and fired his .45 through the window. Because of the bumpy terrain, he couldn't see if he scored a hit, but the other car suddenly veered to the right. It crashed into an old shack by the road and came flying out the other side. When it came down, it slowly rolled to a standstill.

Some time later, a bright green Lansell with a 25 mm on top pulled over. An attractive young woman stepped out of the tiny combat car and walked up to Ripper, who was busy salvaging weapons and some internal components. She looked at the Rattler, which didn't have a single bullet hole or blast mark on it, and frowned.

'How the hell did you take this one out?' she asked.

'Hey, it ain't about hitting hard, or hitting often.' answered Ripper, leaning back. 'It's about hitting bullseye.'

**The End**


End file.
